Could, Should, Would
by jda
Summary: Neela's still feeling guilty about what Gallant did for her. Extention story for "The Student".


Could, Should, Would  
  
This is my first ER fanfic (I have done a few CSI fics, however), so please be gentle in your reviews; if you must criticize, please criticize constructively!  
  
This short story is sort of an extension to what happened in "The Student" (this would also be the spoiler warning)  
  
Standard disclaimer applies, as in I don't own any of the characters but I do "own" the plot of this story. Okay, on with the story. Oh, and thoughts are in single quotation marks '' since I can't get italics on ff.net  
  
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Michael Gallant walked into his apartment mentally berating himself. 'This is all your fault, Mike,' he thought to himself. 'That man died because you weren't there. I suppose this is Neela's fault as much as it's mine.'  
  
"No. It's not her fault!" He growled out loud. He picked up his foam football and hurled it at the wall in frustration. His family portrait rattled precariously on its mounting. "My god, man, what were you thinking when you told her you wanted to ask her out?" He flopped down onto his sofa trying to sort out his jumbled thoughts. Gallant laughed bitterly at how his thoughts had gone in the completely opposite direction. Neela. She was the only person he could think of when he was at home after shift pretending he was completely satisfied watching sports on ESPN day in and day out. She was the only one who could say "intercourse" instead of "discourse" when completely drunk and still sound absolutely charming. And she was the only one who could capture his attention with that soft London accent of hers.  
  
His dark musings were interrupted by his phone ringing. "Hello?" he asked in surprise.  
  
"Michael?" Neela's soft voice answered.  
  
"Neela?"  
  
"Who else?"  
  
"Don't know."  
  
"What?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"Wha-? Okay, that's it, you called, so that means we should be talking," Gallant said decisively.  
  
"What?" Neela asked with a laugh in her voice. "I'm just teasing, don't worry. I'm not bothering you am I? Her voice went from jesting to slightly worried.  
  
"Naw, I just had a date with my t.v.," he replied, "Although I was going to make it more interesting and get my DVD player in on the action." After a slight pause, he couldn't resist. "So, um, Neela, what were you calling about? And how did you get my number?"  
  
"Um. . ." she trailed off, trying to find the right words, "I threatened Jerry if he didn't give me your phone number."  
  
"And? I know there's something else you want to say. Just spit it out," he advised, although he had a general feeling of where this attempt at a conversation was going.  
  
"Uh . . . I-just-wanted-to-thank-you-for-taking-the-blame-for-me-today- because-you-didn't-have-to-that-was-really-sweet." Neela babbled quickly in embarrassment.  
  
The only words that Gallant could make out were "thank", "blame" and "sweet". From that he deduced that Neela was still feeling guilty for what he did.  
  
"It's really nothing for me," he reassured her, "I'd just get disciplinary action; maybe some counseling, but that's about it. You'd have gotten kicked out of med. school or something." This was not a conversation he wanted to have with her now.  
  
"But still-"  
  
"I'd do the same thing tomorrow if I had to. If I could, I'd make this whole nightmare disappear."  
  
"Dr. Carter told me that you falsified the charts. Why did you do that?" Neela asked as her voice raised to a near hysterical pitch. Calming down slightly, she continued, "He told me that was a felony. I can accept you taking the blame for me, but why did you falsify the charts?"  
  
"I should never have left you alone! Especially not during a trauma! This is my fault more than it's your's. Neela, you have to believe me. This is my fault. You were just a player in this twisted game called life."  
  
"Now I know you're lying. You always get metaphorical when you lie."  
  
"I knew I shouldn't have spent that many meals with you," Gallant joked, hoping vainly that they could get off this melancholy subject.  
  
"Don't digress," Neela warned sharply.  
  
'Guess that trick didn't work,' he thought. He rubbed his palm against his face. Apparently he wasn't getting his point across. "La-La," he said softly, using his childish pet name for her, "This. Is. Not. Your. Fault. Do you understand?"  
  
"Yes," she replied resignedly. "But I still feel guilty about this. You wouldn't be minutes away from staring at a conviction if I hadn't screwed up."  
  
"Nee-"  
  
"No, I don't want you to pity me. Everyone's been doing that to me since I arrived in the ER. I don't want pity. I just want you to tell me why you did that so that I can live with myself."  
  
Gallant sighed. This was promising to be a long night. "To tell you the truth, I'm starting to think that this day should never have happened. But it did." He could hear her getting ready to object to what he was saying. "Someone should have been there to help you, Neela, but no one was. Dr. Carter shouldn't have pushed you to be more aggressive. But he did, and you felt that you had to push drugs. These things happen."  
  
"Killing a man 'happens'?" Neela asked bitterly.  
  
"You didn't kill him," Gallant reiterated. "He died because of an adverse drug reaction. And yeah, these things happen . . . even to the best of doctors. They all started out as med. students," he said, anticipating her next move.  
  
"I guess you're right," Neela replied, though not sounding quite convinced. "I guess what they say is true."  
  
"Say what?"  
  
"You, know, 'You're not a real doctor until you've killed a few patients.' I thought I'd be the exception. Guess not."  
  
"Both of us, then. I thought it would be impossible for me to kill someone," Gallant answered humourlessly.  
  
"We make a real pair, don't we?" Neela declared with a slight laugh in her tone.  
  
"Yeah, no kidding. Who else is this skilled at digging themselves into a hole?" He answered, not expecting a reply.  
  
"I would have to say: The staff of County General." She joked back.  
  
"Good point."  
  
"I'm good at some things."  
  
"Hey! You're good at many things."  
  
"I hope that was a compliment."  
  
"Of course it was!" Gallant replied in exasperation. "So, La, you remember in the trauma room, how I was, um, was . . ."  
  
"Saying how you were thinking about asking me out?" She supplied, figuring that he was getting embarrassed after introducing the subject.  
  
"So, would you . . . would you . . ."  
  
"Of course, I'd love to go out with you!" Neela answered just a little too gleefully.  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Really."  
  
"So, you want to go to Donovan's Pub before shift tomorrow?"  
  
"Sounds good. You sure we're allowed to have alcohol in our blood during shift?"  
  
"We don't HAVE to drink. And anyway, we're already on the wrong side of the law. Might as well live dangerously."  
  
"Preparing to got to jail, are you?" Neela teased.  
  
"Maybe," Gallant replied with a smirk she wouldn't be able to see.  
  
"Well, if you do, rest assured that your life will be a living nightmare, because I'm going in with you, and pester you until you and I get released for good behaviour." She left no room for argument.  
  
"Fine. Do what you want. I'll see you tomorrow. Bye, La-La."  
  
"Stop calling me that, Mikey!" They both hung up laughing heartily.  
  
Later, as he lay awake in bed trying to fall asleep, he reflected on how much his life had changed in the last 24 hours. He couldn't prevent what had happened. He accepted that. He shouldn't, however, have falsified the carts, because he had just managed to put both himself and Neela in hot water. There was nothing he could do about what had happened. He didn't have control of the past, but he did have control of the future. He would continue to look out for Neela, (he was the only one who would) but he wouldn't resort to actions similar to those he resorted to that day. His last thought before sleep claimed him was that he would stop making excuses for why he let another day go by without telling Neela how he felt about her.  
  
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I hope you liked this story, considering this is NOT where I had intended for it to go. In my humble opinion, there aren't enough Gallant or Neela stories out there (and no 'ships between the two of them) and this is my contribution to the Gallant/Neela fans (come on, I know you're out there!)  
  
Just a note: I made up Donovan's Pub, but if there is such a pub in Chicago . . . oops.  
  
Please Review. 


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